My coworker Lidia brought me coffee every Monday for a month. I thought she was just being nice. After she suddenly quit, I found a sticky note on her monitor: “Make someone happy on Monday. Make someone feel seen.”
Only then did I realize she’d picked me because she sensed the quiet grief I carried—Mondays were hard after my brother died. She never asked; she just showed up.
When she left, I missed those coffees more than I expected. One Monday, I bought two and left one for Sam, a nervous new intern. His surprise turned into gratitude, and soon he returned the gesture. Others joined in—cookies, jokes, little kindnesses. A Monday tradition was born.
Later I learned Lidia had written a book, You Are Seen, about her year of small Monday acts. She mentioned me anonymously as the coworker carrying something heavy. I cried reading it.
I bought copies for everyone in our kindness chain with the note, “You are seen.”
Years passed, and the ripple kept spreading. Sam made it through his own grief because of those coffees. A stranger started a company inspired by an anonymous Monday cup that saved her darkest day. When I spoke at her launch, I found Sam in the audience—thriving.
It all began with fourteen words and a cup of coffee.
You don’t have to save someone’s life. Just remind them they have one.
So every Monday, I still bring two coffees: one for me, and one for someone who might need to feel seen.
Pass it on.
